


Sally's Other

by CrowsandCooks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Pairing, F/M, I don't even know how to tag this fic, If You Squint - Freeform, Sally ships John and Sherlock, so slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowsandCooks/pseuds/CrowsandCooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sally Donovan was destructive but only in her seek for chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sally's Other

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done something like this before

 

Sally Donovan was destructive.

 

It was in her nature, and she was taught never to deny her nature.

 

Sally was destructive but only against order, in her seek for chaos. For behind order there was chaos.

 

Order was such a fragile thing with faulty construction held with red tape. It would not take much, a gentle tap here, another one there and a sledgehammer in the middle.

 

Chaos was a beauty but could only last so long until order built itself up again, taking chaos back within it.

 

Sally loved order because it was a key to chaos.

 

For a long while, Sally thought Sherlock could be her Other. It was foolish looking back now, but she was attracted to his biting remarks and cold intelligence. He did not cry when she tried to cut him with her words (Anderson would cry so much, and would not stop), she liked him but he was not her Other. The reason was quite simple, Sherlock loved order like she did, but not for the **proper** reasons.

 

Reasons like _hers_.

 

She met her Other eventually though. He was a handsome thing that blended in his surroundings wrecking all within his grasp. Sherlock met his Other too, a broken solider with steel fangs. When she first met him, she jeered at the army man, watching the conflicting emotions on his face. Sherlock bit back, (what were the chances her Other and Anderson wore the same aftershave? Probably none, knowing him) and left with him. She laughed and laughed, her laughter like bombs going off one by one.

 

Her Other was clever man but so easy to become obsessive. She watched with amusement as Sherlock ran around, chasing him in a mocking game of Hide and Seek. "Aren't you a bit jealous?" her Other's pet asked, an expert sniper with the fondness of cigars and old whiskey. She smiled at the man and shrugged,

 

"Tis just a game" she answered, cutting another thread.

 

Her lover's empire was something he built from the ground up, intricate like a spider's web and just as beautiful. It was such order, able to manage itself in the case her love ever left. Sally could see the threads, so small and dainty, gleaming at her like diamonds in the moonlight. Sally smirked; she liked to take her time when it came to such things.

 

She cut another.

 

Order held chaos at bay, after all.

 

She slowly withdrew herself from interacting with the team, keeping her tongue still and only speaking when it regarded to a case. No one noticed much, Anderson probably did but they both knew it was in his best interest to keep such concerns to himself. She had no true reason but being a bystander enthralled her more, watching her Other work, spending time in his bed and cutting threads.

 

She stood at a crime scene, staring at a man, his entire abdomen was ripped out and his thumbs cut off. A personal hit, she noted, not one of her Other's work. Sherlock entered the room, cape bellowing behind him, always a dramatic entrance with that one. His Other (John, John, why haven't they consummated yet?) walking behind him, no cane in hand.

 

Sherlock took one look at the room before rattling of a conclusion of why and how the man died, the only question was who? His eyes landed on her and stopped mid-sentence, she raised an eyebrow as they waited for him to continue.

 

"You're pregnant?" was what came out instead.

 

If the room was silent before, graves were louder compared to it now. Sally wanted to smile, she already knew that but that's not the proper reaction to situations like these. So instead she stormed out with a broken huff. She could hear the low mutters of the others and John hissing 'You don't do that!'.

 

Lestrade came out eventually, her eyes red from the tears (she laughed so hard), wiping the wet streaks off her face. "Is it Anderson's?" he asked in a way only an old friend could (no matter how distant they became). She snorted,

 

"Of course not"

 

Her Other was pleased when she told him, showering her with kisses and touches. Their offspring would never want for anything, he told her, he would ensure to that both of them were cared for (especially after I'm gone went unsaid, but she knew him quite well). She smiled and kissed him, wondering in the back of her mind if his death would be quick.

 

It was.

 

Her Other was clever, leaving no escape for Sherlock, using the man's emotional ties against him. She watched as her Other put a bullet in his head, and for the first time since her parents' death, she cried. She cried until she felt she could cry no more.

 

His empire came crashing within weeks of his death, and the destruction it cause in its tumble had her humming for months. She could not destroy them all, (not enough time to cut all those lovely threads) but Sherlock's 'ghost' seemed to appreciate her unintentional help. It was a pity he killed her Other's pet, she was quite fond of the man. (The last remnant of Jim)

 

After sometime had past, the dust settled and Sherlock rose from his grave much to the shock of most, Sally had visited Lestrade with her daughter in tow. She was just four years old and quite bright, examining the world with wonderment in her eyes.

 

Sherlock was in his office arguing over some evidence when Lestrade beamed at the sight of his goddaughter. She ran into his arms, gushing to her uncle Greg about one thing or another. Sherlock stared at the young girl in the detective's arms, with her bright green eyes and  dark brown hair of curls, and looked back at her with mild horror and realization.

 

Sally merely smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back. Like way back, last year summer most likely.


End file.
